


Scars and Healing

by RedHawkeRevolver



Series: Scars and Love [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-22
Updated: 2015-02-27
Packaged: 2018-03-08 14:31:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3212591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedHawkeRevolver/pseuds/RedHawkeRevolver
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cullen has many, and Evelyn loves them all even as she does her best to try and erase the ones he keeps hidden.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was going to be a one shot, but then I just kept thinking of more and more I wanted to write, so I decided to make it a short multi-chapter story. Nothing novel length, but a couple or a few chapters to fully explore the characterizations. Starts with Evelyn's POV, but will alternate between hers and Cullen's. This is set before my other Cullen/Evelyn story, Love and Duty. In my head this Cullen/Evelyn is the same as that one and I may use these two for other little things until I decide if I want to write something long and AU-ish for them. I love AU's. Thanks for reading!

She had counted four so far. And it had taken the Inquisitor quite some time to see that many. The Commander was a well spoken and seasoned leader who was open with his opinions around the war table, but open about himself he most certainly was not.

The first was the most obvious. The thin line that just crossed the corner of his mouth was one of the first things she noticed about him. It wasn't so much the scar that always caught her eye, she had to admit. She liked looking at his mouth when he spoke and she couldn't help but be fixated by its subtle movement as his lips formed words or the ever anticipated slight expressions that she was finding herself increasingly dependent on for life. Sometimes she would catch herself holding her breath as she stared at it until he smiled or grimaced ever so slightly, that particular corner tilting up just a bit. At which point she would breath as a reward for seeing it and try to hold in her own smile of satisfaction. Evelyn loved that damn scar.

The second was on his right hand. To be exact, that one was actually a pair of crossed lines across his knuckles, but they looked to be the same age and likely from the same weapon so she considered them one scar from a single injury. The first time she caught him with his gloves off she saw it. It looked to be the oldest of the ones she knew. She reasoned he earned it when he was young and perhaps just learning how to fight. He let a dagger get inside the reach of his longsword probably and the cunning little blade left it's marks. She had studied his hands countless times by now. She noted that there were no other similar scars there. A testament to many of his best qualities; dedication, tenacity, pride. He clearly never let an enemy get that close to him again.

The third she saw by accident. They had just arrived at Skyhold and everyone was helping to put the place in order. He had removed his gloves and gauntlets to help some of the other men lift felled beams from the main hall. As she passed him with his arms up by his head carrying a massive piece of wood outside, the sun shining on his left forearm showed her the jagged remnants of a wicked wound. It was easily the size of her fist, like a starburst with lines going in several directions. The skin had obviously needed stitched back together at the time. It was unquestionably from a mace or other such cruel device that penetrated his shield, and his arm in the process, pulling back both flesh and splinters of wood and metal after it left it's mark. It looked like he was lucky he hadn't lost his arm along with his shield with that wound.

The fourth one she knew of was the most intimate, if the back of his neck could be considered such. Just below his hairline there was a patch of rough and poorly healed skin that looked like it had been a burn when fresh. It was impossible to tell how old it was because she knew it wasn't normal fire that caused it. Mageflame always left a distinct kind of scar that never really healed like other scars did. The skin would always be a little tender and a little pink. She saw it one day when she was staring at him giving orders to his troops. Sometimes she came up with excuses to be near just so she could stare at him.

Out of the corner of her eye, she watched his back while Varric (her excuse for being there at the time) was telling her some story she would never remember. Varric knew he was simply a device for her to exercise her voyeuristic fetish, but he didn't seem to care. At one point, Cullen rubbed his hand against the back of his neck as he sometimes did and when he pulled it away and bent his head slightly, the old burn was brought to her attention. Her commander did not seem like the kind of man to let an opponent get by him, nor was he someone to run away from a fight, so how he had come to be burned from behind by a mage was a story she didn't think she wanted to know.

Ah, but that was a lie. She did want to know. She wanted to know everything about him. Every story, every scar, whatever they were, wherever they were, even the ones she had yet to discover. They were all part of him and despite her half-hearted efforts at demure indifference and professional distance, she had to admit to herself that she loved him. Totally and pathetically.

She often tried to convince herself it wasn't one-sided. For all the times she indulged in gazing longingly at him, she would swear there were times she caught him staring at her as well. And if she was really trying to make herself seem less obsessed, she would also swear there were times when his dutiful and gentlemanly manner was carefully and deliberately directed at her and not just default behavior meant for any passerby.

Well, a girl could hope.

Hope, however, was something she had in short supply currently. Whenever she was back in Skyhold, she tried to spend as much time as possible around Cullen, even if he didn't exactly notice it. When she ran out of excuses to meet with him or talk with him directly, she'd find him anyway and observe him secretly from afar. She almost never had trouble. He always seemed willing, eager even, to speak with her and it was never too hard to find him when she simply wanted to watch over him.

But at the moment he seemed to be actively avoiding her. She had been back for a while now, waiting for Leliana's scouts to report in with new leads to follow up on, but she had only spoken with him once in a council meeting about business and she hadn't seen him around casually at all. That one time she had seen him, he didn't look like himself. He seemed tired and distracted, which just made her more worried.

She took to pacing for no reason outside his office for hours when she knew he was in there, but he never came out. She was having trouble sleeping and had been spending most nights on her balcony looking down at his door, wondering if she should go and knock on it to see if he was alright.

It was on such a night that she resigned herself to the fact that she would get no rest staring at a door and decided to take a walk around the keep. She thought maybe exposure to the cold air during a brisk stroll would make her want to bury herself under her covers and go to sleep. Word had finally come in about where she needed to travel next and much to her dismay, she was expected to depart in the morning.

She didn't bother to dress before she left her room. She simply tied on a robe and started down the steps. She didn't even bother putting on her boots. A decision she regretted when she finally made it outside and felt the frigid flagstones beneath her feet. She shivered and danced on her tiptoes down into the main courtyard and then down again. She had no destination planned. She kept one eye on Cullen's tower as she went. She roamed outside then back inside, up the battlements and down again. She was no more ready to get back in bed than when she started. Cullen's quarters were dark just like most everyone else's.

She eventually found herself in the kitchens. As she had lost feeling in her toes some time ago and they were starting to look a bit blue, she decided to go in and sit by the fire for a while.

She was alone and the large hearth had burned down to embers. She piled on a few logs and stoked it back to life before settling down into a chair before it, stretching her feet out to feel it's warmth.

She folded her arms around herself and closed her eyes. In her head, she counted his scars. She went over in her mind's eye what each of them looked like. Then she imagined touching them. First with hesitant fingertips, then softly kissing them with her lips. She imagined what he would smell like up close. Perhaps steel and leather. She imagined what his skin would taste like. Perhaps salt and spice. She imagined what his unshaven stubble would feel like against her face and what his bare hands would feel like on her hips. She wondered what other scars lay beneath his armor and what scars lay within that would not be so obvious. If she could soothe them all with a kiss, she would.

She was starting to finally feel sleepy and she let out a sigh. She almost considered just falling off into the Fade where she was sitting, until the door opened behind her, startling her out of her half-dreams.

She turned and saw Cullen in the doorway. Not the Commander of the Inquisition. Cullen. No sword, no coat, no armor. Not even a shirt. He stood before her in his boots and trousers. His hair was tousled and he almost had the start of a beard on his face. His body seemed tense and he looked like he was sweating. His eyes looked surprised at the sight of her, but not just that. There was something else behind the surprise in those dark golden eyes that looked...tortured.

"Commander..."  
"Inquisitor..."

They both started to speak then stopped. She was the first to continue, rising from her chair to face him. "Commander, I'm so sorry I startled you. Is there something you need?"

He held his hands up and took a step back. "No. No, it is I who should apologize. I did not mean to intrude." He turned to leave, but she stopped him.

"Wait, please. Don't be silly, you're not intruding. We're in the kitchens, Commander," She said with a smile. "If anything, I think the both of us are intruding upon the mice." He hesitated. And then she saw the scarred corner of his mouth lift just barely into something that could pass for amusement. If she hadn't studied his face so well, she probably wouldn't have noticed it in the dim light. But the almost-smile was gone before it even fully formed.

"I should go." He said to the floor. "Please excuse me."

"Commander..." She stopped him again. "Are you...are you alright?" She had to ask. She had known something was wrong for days and now she clearly had proof. She doubted it was common practice for him to wander Skyhold half naked. And she would swear he looked feverish. She allowed her concern to overtake her propriety. "I...haven't seen you...I was...worried..."

She should have stopped talking before she started. He looked annoyed, frustrated. Who did she think she was? His mother? How stupid of her. She tried to backtrack. "I shouldn't be prying..."

Cullen sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. "No, this is my fault. I..." He shook his head and dropped his eyes to the floor. "As leader of the Inquisition you...there is something I must tell you."

The 'leader of the inquisition' relaxed a little, not having realized she had become tense. She pulled another chair next to hers and gestured for him to sit. "Whatever it is, I'm willing to listen."

He seemed to hesitate at first, but then he sat. "Right. Thank you." He said softly.

The two of them sat in silence for a while. Cullen stared into the fire. She stared at Cullen. But not how she usually did. She wasn't looking at the scars on his skin or his state of undress. She was trying to look within. Searching for a hidden hurt she desperately wanted to help heal.

He still didn't look at her when he began to speak.

"Lyrium grants Templars our abilities, but it controls us as well. Those cut off suffer. Some go mad. Others die. We have secured a reliable source of lyrium for the Templars here but..."

"You no longer take it." She finished the sentence for him. All the pieces came together. How could she not have seen it before? Maker! What he must be suffering...

He lowered his head further. "It's been months now."

"Cullen, if this can kill you..." She was suddenly terrified at the reality of his situation.

"It hasn't yet. After what happened in Kirkwall, I couldn't... I will not be bound to the order, or that life, any longer. Whatever the suffering I accept it." There was a long pause. Cullen rose from his chair, or at least he tried to. He stumbled slightly but caught himself, at the same time holding out his hand in refusal of Evelyn's reflexive offer of assistance. She sat back down while he started pacing.

When he started to speak again, she almost wasn't sure if he was talking to himself or to her. "At least, I thought I could accept it...I wanted to be able to accept it. It's relentless. If I am unable to fulfill what vows I kept then nothing good has come of this."

She had no idea what to say, or what comfort to offer. "Cullen...""

He cut her off and looked at her pointedly. "I had asked Cassandra to watch me. She could evaluate the risk, monitor my performance and my continued ability to lead. If I became...unable to perform my duties, she was to act in the best interest of the Inquisition. I've asked her to replace me."

His breathing was getting heavier. He clutched handfuls of his hair in his fists and he walked back and forth before the fire. "I expected her to keep her word, but..."

"She refused." Again she finished his sentence. Evelyn knew Cassandra. This would not be a responsibility she would take lightly. Nor would she wish to see Cullen step down unnecessarily. "I agree with her. You give yourself too little credit."

"I never meant for this to interfere." He shook his head in a sad and regretful gesture and then turned his back to her as he moved to leave.

Without thinking she rose and tried to intercept him. "Cullen, wait..." She reached out to touch his shoulder from behind. She felt the thick raised flesh of another scar beneath her fingertips but those superficial things were not the scars she was interested in right now. There were deeper ones that deserved her attention.

But it seemed Cullen wasn't yet ready to let her see them. He spun quickly and grabbed her wrist pulling her away from him. Their eyes met for a moment, hers shocked and wide, his wild and far away.

"Cullen, please," she said softly, patiently, "if you need to talk..."

He squeezed his eyes shut and threw down her hand. He just stood there, looking like he was trying to shut out...something.

"Are you going to be alright?" She asked.

"Yes..." He paused, shook his head again, then admitted the truth. "I don't know."


	2. Chapter 2

Cullen almost thought he could feel the last strands of his faith slip through his trembling fingers. The Maker seemed to have no end to the trials put before him.

Of all times, of all people, it would be her that he ran into, in the kitchens of all places, in the middle of the night, looking the way he did and feeling worse.

He had been trying, perhaps stupidly and now certainly in vain, to avoid her. He didn't want her to see him like this. He hadn't quite worked out what exactly he would say to her, or how to tell her about his...situation. He selfishly imagined Cassandra would replace him while Evelyn was away and he could slink off into obscurity and not have to face her at all. He could die a quiet death alone. But was he really that much of a coward? He hardly knew anymore.

It seemed like all he had known for days was the delirium of withdrawal. Pain he could tolerate, pain was familiar and if anything it at least reminded him he was still alive. But when it started getting hard for him to think, when his mind started to slow, when the nightmares got worse and dark thoughts and dark needs threatened to overtake him it was getting to be more than he could bear silently.

One of the reasons he stopped taking the lyrium was so it wouldn't steal who he was, but now, without it, he was losing who he was anyway. It was a shameful irony. How could he have been so naïve to think he would win this battle? Perhaps he was nothing more than a coward after all.

Even if it was so, he had prayed he wouldn't seem that way in front of Evelyn. So much for prayer.

He barely heard her speaking to him. She asked him for a second time if he would be alright. As a reflex he said yes, then he reconsidered the obvious lie. For all his fear and discomfort imagining this conversation taking place, and his disappointment that it was taking place at all, the reality of it was...easier than he thought it would be. As was everything about her. Easy.

Everything seemed easier with her around. She was easy to talk to. She had an easy, calming way about her. Sometimes he found himself staring at her because when he did his head seemed to clear even if only for a little while. And that only tempted him more to continue.

He told himself he must keep as much distance from her as possible. She was a dangerous distraction that he had not been expecting. She was young, she was a noble and she was far too kind, far too important to their cause and far too beautiful.

But he was doing a piss poor job of staying away. It was the one thing the woman was not making easy for him. In fact she was gradually making it near impossible. Wasn't she? Another thing he was unsure about. Did her gaze linger on him longer than others? Did she seek him out more often than her other advisors? Or was his clouded mind conjuring fantasy in an effort to find some sort of respite from the torment?

Did it even matter anymore? She was standing before him now. Eyes wide and full of concern. Of that he was certain. She had not responded to his admissions thus far with shock or anger or disgust. She hadn't asked him if he could fulfill his duties, she hadn't asked him if he could continue to lead or fight. She asked if he thought he was going to be alright.

He took back the lie that was always his first response and told her the truth. He had nothing left to lose.

"...I don't know."

She let out a long breath, then, not taking her eyes from him, she sat back down. She folded her hands in her lap. The flickering firelight cast shadows across her face giving it a soothing softness. Cullen saw no judgment there. Only...willingness.

Again it might have been his addled senses, but he didn't care anymore. He wanted to believe it. That she was willing to listen, willing to look down the path he walked, willing to understand.

She smiled a little, then spoke. "Tell me."

It was an order he was disgracefully eager to obey. But he found he couldn't look her in the eye, so he stared into the fire instead almost wishing it would burn the memories from his head.

"You asked what happened to Fereldon's circle. It was taken over by Abominations..." The words spilled from his lips more easily than he would have thought. He told her everything. Dead mages, dead Templars, dead friends. Demons and slaughter. Hopelessness and torture.

"How can you be the same person after that?" Cullen heard his own voice faltering as he spoke the words that he had never admitted to himself. He wasn't the same person, but he had continued on, trying to be. He wanted to serve.

He told her of Kirkwall and how fear and suspicion twisted into hatred and madness. And more dead innocents.

"Can't you see why I want nothing to do with that life?" Was he trying to convince her, or himself? He felt his fever rising again. He was nauseous. His head was throbbing, his chest was aching and he started pacing. These old memories held no purpose but to remind him of all that had been lost. They reminded him how the bitter wounds of failing in his duty to protect were still not scarred over, but remained fresh and bleeding.

Doubt was creeping into his mind again, dark and insidious. He wanted to vomit. He wanted to be whole again, not this shaking broken thing.

Her voice reached out to him. "Of course I can see why, I..."

No. He would not be mollified. "Don't!" He spit back at her. "You should be questioning what I've done. I thought this would be better, that I would regain some control over my life. But these thoughts won't leave me..."

His breath was coming harder now. It was as if he was pleading with her, or maybe he was pleading with the demons in his head. He asked her questions she had no answers to. He insisted to her that he swore to give no less of himself to this cause than he had the Chantry. He didn't let her respond. His thoughts went to the same futile conclusion they always did, how could she possibly think any differently?

"I should be taking it!" Without even realizing it, in his frustrated rant his bare fist found the wall and a sharp pain shot through his hand. When he pulled it back he saw blood. He would have a new scar. Just one more atop the many. He repeated his words, almost resigned to them now. "I should be taking it."

"Is that what you want?" It was a forceful question. She was not timidly asking. She was demanding something of him. He finally looked in her eyes and she was looking back at him. She saw him. She saw him for what he was and what he wanted to be.

"This doesn't have to be about the Inquisition, Cullen."

She was demanding he put himself before the Inquisition? His wants were no more relevant now than they had ever been. Why did she care? And, yet he knew she did. He had never felt more exposed than he did at that moment with her intense green eyes staring up at him. Exposed, but safe. And he had always considered it his job to keep her safe. How easily she turned the tables.

Cullen exhaled a rough and ragged breath and answered her. "No. But these memories have always haunted me. If they become worse, if I cannot endure this..."

He moved to turn away from her again, but before he could she stopped him, with her small hand on his chest. He hadn't even seen her rise from her chair, but there she was right in front of him. Close enough to smell her hair. Her fingers resting overtop one of his deepest scars.

It was a scar he hadn't thought about in a long time, but her touch there reminded him of the numbness that lingered over the once broken and hastily mended skin. It was from the circle in Fereldon. He was held paralyzed by magic and run through with his own blade, only to be healed for the fun of it. The memory left him as numb as the scar.

She didn't seem to notice the old wound beneath her hand, or she chose not to. She leaned into him and he saw absolute certainty in her eyes when she said, "You can."

Evelyn stayed just like that for a long moment, hand on his chest, looking up at him. He stood dumbfounded, unsure of what to say or if he should say anything at all. His faith that had fled him at the beginning of this conversation slowly began to creep back into his grasp. Or was it her faith that she was giving to him?

He still felt awful. But not quite so hopeless. In spite of everything, he believed her. Perhaps he could endure. It seemed not so daunting now. It seemed easier.

His heartbeat slowed and his breathing evened beneath her touch. When she finally released him, she turned and walked casually over to rummage around in one of the cabinets on the wall. She pulled out a small flask and handed it to him. He just stared down at it stupidly.

"It's a ginger draught." She shoved it towards him again. "It will help with the nausea. I imagine it's why you came down here in the first place. I doubt it was because you were trying to find me." She smiled innocently. "But I'm glad you did."

He looked at her eyes once more. He reached up to rub the old burn on the back of his neck that still sometimes itched and stung. Not knowing what more to say, he said nothing, not even thank you. He was empty and exhausted. He didn't have it in him. He simply took the flask and left.

xxxx

She wasn't expecting him to say anything. She just wanted him to try and sleep on what had been said. He needed time. She knew that. And she knew she still loved him. She would give him time in spades if that was what he needed from her. When he turned and left, he still looked like he had come from a demon battle, and had a look on his face like he was going to fight some more, but she hoped she had helped him to a better place in his own head than before.

Evelyn gave him a few seconds head start back to his tower, then she followed. It was easy enough to keep herself hidden from him as he made his way back to his bed. She wasn't exactly worried for him. She believed what she told him; that he could handle this, that he could endure. But that didn't stop her own need to be near him while he suffered. Even if he wouldn't have wanted it, even if he didn't know, she wanted to be near him if only as a symbolic gesture of solidarity...and love.

He moved slowly, not seeming to notice the cold on his bare skin. She had to swipe an old blanket from one of the still unused tower rooms and wrap herself in it before her teeth chattering gave her away.

When he was finally back in his quarters and the heavy door shut behind him, she took up a position just outside, sitting on the cold stone and settling in under her blanket. She watched steadfastly until the faint candle light that came from within was extinguished and then she fell asleep.


	3. Chapter 3

Evelyn woke to a soft tapping on her shoulder. The sun hadn't yet risen. She turned and shifted from her huddled position outside Cullen's door to find Cole crouching beside her.

"They'll be looking for you soon." He whispered to her. "Important people expecting important things. You'll be needed."

Nothing around the keep appeared to be stirring yet. Cullen's rooms were still dark. "What are you doing out here so early Cole?" She asked groggily as she rubbed sleep from her eyes.

"You feel very loud. Louder when it's him you suffer for. He feels like quiet. Safe and solid, protecting and proud. Even when he's like this."

Evelyn tilted her head and studied Cole, trying to work out what he meant. "Are you saying you know what the commander's been going through?"

Cole backed away a little holding up his hands. "I've never intruded. He wouldn't want it. Wants to make it through on his own. I can't help but feel it though. I wanted to tell you. So much of you is for him. I'm glad you know now. He's stronger when you hold him. Even if it's only in your thoughts."

Evelyn smiled. Once she got to know him, she found Cole surprisingly insightful. And he was honest. There was precious little honesty left in the world and it was refreshing to hear now and then.

She looked up with some regret at Cullen's door. If she were going to be honest with herself, the last thing she wanted to do was leave. But leave she would. Duty came first. For now at least. Working towards a time when that wouldn't always have to be the case kept her motivated.

"You're right. I do need to go. Thank you for waking me. And thank you for looking after the commander." She reached out and squeezed his hand. He blushed and smiled.

"Keep an eye on him while I'm gone for me? But let him follow his own path, alright?" Cole just nodded his head. She handed over her blanket to him and scurried back to her rooms as the sun was just starting to rise. She said a prayer to the Maker under her breath as she went.

"Though stung with a hundred arrows, though suffering from ailments both great and small, his heart was strong and he moved on. The deep dark before dawn's light seems eternal. But know that the sun always rises."

xxxx

It was only for an hour at most, but Cullen had slept. Silently and peacefully for the first time in weeks, he had slept. When he woke it was still dark but dawn was fast approaching.

The deep dark before the dawn's light seems eternal. But know that the sun always rises.

That brief line from the Chant suddenly came to mind. It was true and it gave him some comfort. The days were easier than the nights. They provided hard work and welcome distractions. He dressed quickly, eager to busy himself with something, anything to take his mind from what had happened last night. It had to be done though. She had to know. He should have told her sooner in fact. If he hadn't waited until he was a crumbling mess he could have exercised more control over how the conversation had gone instead of falling apart in front of her and revealing things he wished he hadn't.

But he couldn't deny that part of him that was relieved she now knew. And he wasn't entirely regretful that he had told her of the events in his life that got him to where he was now. He was still glad, however, that she had likely already departed, so he could be spared looking her in the eyes so soon after his confessions.

He stretched under the familiar weight of his armor. His head was a little clearer this morning and the weight on his shoulders felt a little lighter. He'd take it.

When he exited his office, he found Cole sitting just outside the door.

The boy looked up at him from under the wide brim of his hat. Cullen was never sure exactly what to make of him. But he was sure he didn't like conversing with him. The way he so readily spoke out the thoughts of others and even worse, the way he told you what you were thinking was unnerving to say the least. That is, when he understood what the boy was saying in the first place.

"She was here all night but she had to leave. Wouldn't have wanted you to catch her anyway. She's always watching you when you aren't looking. And sometimes when you are. Here." Cole reached up and offered Cullen what looked like a neatly folded but worn blanket. "This smells like her. Honey and clover."

Cullen blinked and just stared at it for a moment. He suddenly remembered he caught a whiff of her hair last night. That was exactly what it smelled like. It smelled like the wild fields in summer around his childhood home, clean and uncorrupted. It smelled like a time before his scars...or maybe it smelled like what he wanted to come after them. A better life, a fresh start. Isn't that what they were all fighting for after all?

He seemed unable to stop himself from reaching out to take it. After he handed it over, Cole scrambled to his feet and left without another word. Cullen wondered if he would remember this interaction later. He looked down at the blanket in his hand. He wanted to remember.

Had she really stayed outside his quarters for the rest of the night until duty called her away? Had he truly not been imagining her eyes finding him always all this time? True or not, these were things he shouldn't be thinking of. He shook the thoughts from his head and turned back to his door. He went inside and was going to toss the blanket in a corner atop one of the many piles of books that littered the floor but he hesitated. Without really knowing why, he climbed upstairs and laid it upon his bed instead.

Cullen tried to go about his day as he would any other. He met with his captains. They all seemed to be holding their collective breath through the entire meeting and then they all let go of a relieved sigh when he dismissed them. He supposed he had been snapping impatiently at them more frequently as of late. That they all left his office unscathed today was good news for everyone, he thought.

He met with Josephine and Leliana. He was surprised to find Cassandra joining them. When their daily business was concluded, he held the Seeker back until the other two women left the room.

"Why are you here?" He questioned her gruffly. "Why are you not with the Inquisitor? She depends on you out there."

"She asked me to stay behind. She said I was needed here more than she needed me with her." Cassandra furrowed her brow and crossed her arms defensively over her chest preparing for the argument she knew he was about to start with her. And he was most definitely going to start one. She obviously knew at least some of what transpired last night.

"I told her you refused to replace me. She seemed to agree with you." So why had she told Cassandra to stay? Had she reconsidered her faith in him? If she had, he couldn't blame her, but his chest still tightened and his heart sunk a little at the thought.

"Of course she agreed with me. She asked me to stay to make sure you didn't do anything stupid like replace yourself while she was gone." Cassandra raised her eyebrow at him smugly. "I told her I would try but that you were hopelessly stubborn."

"Do you think I want to step down?" He felt like he was rehashing a conversation he and Cassandra had had many times already. "Because I don't. But if it is what is necessary for the good of the Inquisition..."

She cut him off. "It isn't." She said and she waved her hand at him dismissively as she started walking towards the door. "This conversation is ridiculous. I'm sure you have work to attend to Commander." And then she left, apparently as sick of his self-doubt as he was himself.

He kept busy the rest of the day and before he knew it the sun had fallen behind the mountains and it was dark. When he found himself in his tower alone with the rest of Skyhold settling down for another night, he was surprised that he actually wanted to do the same.

As he undressed he realized he hadn't been dwelling much on himself today or how he felt. When his thoughts wandered, they did not drift towards bad memories, demons, pain or withdrawal, they drifted towards Evelyn. Idle things about her, unimportant things about her, but they kept his mind from the more destructive thoughts. He knew he shouldn't be thinking of her, replacing one addiction with another, but she seemed to be the only thing he could wrap his head around that wasn't tainted and scarred. He didn't feel feverish and his skin wasn't crawling and, while selfishly picturing her eyes looking up at him, he thought he actually might be able to lie still and rest.

And he did for a short while until an old familiar nightmare woke him. He gasped at sat up in bed, sweating and shivering. The scar on his chest ached and the back of his neck burned. He did his best to focus on something else trying to shake off the vile tendrils of the Fade that still clung to him. He focused on the cold air against his skin and the noises of the wind outside. He stared into the dying fire and tried to even out his breaths.

On an impulse, he snatched up the old blanket Cole had given him earlier that he had placed carefully at the bottom of his bed. He stared at it for a moment, then he lay back down, balled it up and shoved it underneath his head. The cloth was rough and scratched against his cheek, but it smelled...just like her. As he inhaled and exhaled her sweet smell of innocence, sleep started to tug at his senses again and he was too weak to fight it. His half-conscious thoughts started to run away from him. He was too weak to stop himself from thinking of her. Of her hair and her smile and the brief touch of her hand against his bare chest. He didn't want to stop himself anymore. He wanted to sleep and he wanted her.

As the Fade finally claimed him again, he felt a new scar, but a welcome one, start carving itself into his heart.


	4. Chapter 4

"Are you going to be like this until we get back?" Dorian had asked a question, but it sounded more like an accusation.

Evelyn took her eyes from the campfire and looked up at him standing over her. "What do you mean?"

"You've done nothing but stare morosely into the fire every night since we left. I'm hardly enjoying myself on this trip at all. Usually it's Cassandra's sour disposition spoiling the mood, but you seem to have taken up the torch. I've been forced to talk with that Qunari brute for entertainment. Are you planning on being normal again anytime soon?" He sat down beside her in the sand.

She gave him half a smile. She supposed she had been more contemplative since they left Skyhold, but 'morose' was a bit of an exaggeration. "I'm sorry, Dorian, I'll endeavor to kill things in a more lighthearted fashion for you tomorrow. Will that help?"

"Well, it's a start, but something tells me I'll simply have to suffer through our excursion until we return so you can check on your strapping ex-Templar."

The fire snapped loudly while Dorian's comment hung there for a moment.

"My...what?" She wasn't sure she was prepared to have this conversation out loud after so much time living with it only in her head.

"My dear, you are artful and adept at many things. Concealing how you feel about the Commander is not one of them. It would be really quite adorable if it wasn't so pathetic by now."

She shifted uncomfortably. "I'm..." Pathetic. She was pathetic. Why deny it?

Dorian must have seen her shoulders slump as she silently agreed with him.

"Good." He said. "Acceptance is the first step in escaping this agonizingly slow limbo the two of you have found yourselves in. Now before I get to my real advice, I have to ask. Are you sure?"

Sure? She almost laughed. She had passed 'sure' months ago. She was more sure that she loved Cullen than she was sure of her own name. She rolled her eyes and said nothing in reply.

"Right." Dorian sighed, paused, then offered, "He's older than you."

"If I hadn't been promised to the Chantry, do you think my father would have betrothed me to someone younger?" She rebutted.

"I suppose not." Another pause. "He's not titled."

"Do you think there's a titled lord out there who would have me like this?" She waved her hand at him, exposing the faint green glow of the mark on it. "And let me go galavanting to all corners of Thedas trying to fix...everything?"

"You do have a point." He conceded. "He's...Ferelden."

Now he was just being ridiculous. "I like the accent." She said glibly.

"He's a soldier. He has a lot of scars, you know."

"He's beautiful." She said it so softly, she thought the crackling of the fire might have concealed her words.

Dorian's tone suddenly grew serious. "That he is, but those aren't the scars I'm speaking of."

She knew that. Perhaps better than anyone now and she held that knowledge close to her heart. "Those are beautiful too."

"Well, just so long as you know what you're getting yourself into." Just like that he reverted back to his typical detached amusement. "Also, I had to make sure he was definitely off-limits. As you said, he's beautiful. I wouldn't forgive myself for not throwing my hat in if there was a chance."

"Don't flatter yourself Dorian. I'm certain he doesn't like men." She was glad to have aired out her feelings with a friend but she was even more glad to have the subject changed.

"That never stopped me before. I can be quite dashing you know." He held his hand up to her dramatically. "Now, now, it's far too late to change your affections! You've already chosen Cullen."

She laughed more heartily than she had in days. "You must be very cruel indeed Lord Pavus, to so frequently break women's hearts as you do. I shall content myself with your friendship...and thoughts of strapping ex-Templars."

"Yes, do, my dear." He winked at her. "Now for my actual advice. If you ever want anything to come from all this love-sick brooding of yours, you're going to have to be the one to say something first. He's simply too much of a gentleman. Part of his charm, I know, but he has more than a healthy dash of self-loathing as well, which doesn't help your situation. Given the right kind of encouragement, however, I have no doubt he'd be more than willing to take control, once he's comfortable."

Was that supposed to be dirty? She was never quite sure with Dorian. She decided to just ignore that last part. "I don't think he'd be very receptive right now. Perhaps given a little more time..."

"Argh!" Dorian cut her off with an exasperated grunt. "If you take any more time, you'll both have died of old age. It may never seem like the right time. Which means there's no time like the present. You're only hurting yourselves with this hesitancy. No, correct that. You're hurting all of us that have to watch you. Both of you. It's like watching paint dry. Have pity and give the Inquisition something interesting to talk about that doesn't involve death and demons." He swept his hand down at her in a frustrated gesture, then he rose and left to go back to his tent.

She smiled at his back and decided to be less 'morose' in the morning. She would need to take a bit longer to decide if she should take his advice.

xxxx

Cullen checked the packs on his horse for the third time. He would usually be happy to get out of Skyhold, but now he was looking for reasons to linger. Unfortunately, he had put this trip off too many times already. He had been meaning to inspect their recently captured keep and he didn't want to leave the job undone any longer.

Evelyn had been gone for several weeks and over that time his condition had been gradually improving. The pains had dampened down to a manageable level again. He was no longer troubled by fever or nausea. And he slept at least a little most nights now. He had never been superstitious, having only his faith in the Maker to see him through past hardships, and he had never been reliant on anything more esoteric than his sword. Despite those things, however, he found himself bedding down every night with the blanket that still smelled of Evelyn underneath his head. And even now, the odd token was stuffed in among his supplies.

He surprised himself when he realized he didn't feel strange or guilty about it. It was something he consciously did each night; something he wanted to do and he did it for himself. It soothed all of his aches but one. He ached to have her back. He could no longer deny it or wish it were otherwise. He could no longer talk himself out of it or reason it away. As his head cleared of the fog of withdrawal, it was just as quickly filled again with thoughts of her.

Perhaps he would do nothing about it upon her return. In fact, he was certain he couldn't possibly do anything about it, but that wouldn't change his feelings. He could suffer wanting her. He would willingly live with the ache of needing her as long as it meant he could be near her, even if it came to nothing.

Before, he had made excuses to himself that duty came first. He now knew that it could still come first. In fact he felt he could serve more effectively than he had previously. He felt there was something inside of him now that wasn't put there by someone else. Something that wasn't taught and learned or suffered through leaving its scars. Something that was his. It felt like who he really was, or at least who he wanted to be. It gave him a focus and a clarity he wasn't sure he had ever known.

Reluctantly, he mounted his horse. He knew she was already on her way back. For the first time, he wouldn't be here when she returned. His needs would have to wait a bit longer. He briefly worried that she might be called away again before he himself could return, but something inside him said she would wait for him. A foolish fancy, he knew, but it gave him strength enough to ride out through the gates. After all the times in the past he had left behind places and people he would just as soon forget, he finally found himself having somewhere and someone worth returning to.


	5. Chapter 5

Cullen was away from Skyhold for longer than he originally expected, but the work was welcome and fulfilling. The change in scenery, the time on the road, the fact that he felt vital to the perseverance of their cause all strengthened his own resolve to persevere.

He felt more like himself each day. And each day he thought about Evelyn. He had been allowing himself more and more freedom to let his mind wander to thoughts of her. Sometimes innocent ones, sometimes not, but they were all new and they belonged only to him. They were fast becoming a bedrock of this new life he was forging. He had fallen into a routine, and had almost convinced himself he needed nothing more than his work and these private thoughts to keep him moving forward, until a letter arrived one morning reporting that Evelyn had returned to Skyhold.

He stood on the battlements of their now bustling new fort staring down at the parchment in his hands, his eyes squinted under the setting sunlight.

Commander,

The Inquisitor is once again back in residence at Skyhold. There is business she must attend to in Val Royaeux but she has said she will remain here until she can meet with her full council. I have assured her that you have reported your progress frequently and that all is well with the the army. She is still, however, insisting on being briefed in person. Your presence is required forthwith. Please make haste as the Ambassador is becoming quite annoyed at the Inquisitor's procrastination in leaving for Orlais.

And I am becoming annoyed at seeing the Inquisitor pace the ramparts watching for your return.

CP

The words of Cassandra's letter swam before his eyes. Against his better judgement, against his will, his mind immediately started reading deeper into the text. She had returned and was waiting for him.

There was no reason to believe it was more than some bit of urgent business she wanted to discuss without chance of a letter being intercepted. Or perhaps she simply meant to reassure herself that the commander of her armies was still in possession of his faculties. She could even be using him as an excuse to get some rest before she was forced to travel again.

All were plausible reasons for her actions. What was completely implausible was that she was waiting at Skyhold for him. For Cullen. And though he stalwartly refused to admit it to himself, it was that unlikely scenerio that had him packing his bags, quickly giving a few remaining orders to his lieutenants and riding out even as the sky darkened to night. Cassandra had said to make haste after all.

It seemed he needed more than work and secret desires to fill his days. The anticipation building in his gut and the realization that she would soon be before him in the flesh again, that he might smell her scent again, not lingering on a discarded possession but alive and clinging to her...it shook him to his core to admit that he wanted, needed all of her and not just fantasies.

Suddenly thoughts of resisting the urge for lyrium were dwarfed by thoughts of resisting his increasingly dangerous urges for her. He wasn't sure if that frightened him more or less.

xxxx

Evelyn paced the ramparts watching the sun set behind the Frostbacks. Another day gone, and the Commander was still away. She wasn't sure how much longer she could avoid Josephine's relentless prodding to get back on the road.

She took a deep breath letting the chill air coat her insides. She would hold out as long as it took. She needed to speak with Cullen and she was unwilling to let any more time pass than was necessary without assuring herself of his well-being...and making her feelings known.

For the duration of her last outing, and all the way back to Skyhold, Dorian's words echoed inside her head. The more she thought, the more it all made sense. Life was too precarious, time was too precious and the world was a dark enough place, without her keeping her feelings in the dark.

Besides, if she said something and he wasn't receptive, she was certain Josephine could find things for her to do that would keep her away from Skyhold indefinitely so she could live out her shame without having to do it in the same keep with him.

But when she finally returned, he was away. So she waited. Patience was clearly not a virtue the Maker had seen fit to bless her with. And Cassandra actually told her as much to her face, just a short while ago.

Cassandra had given her all of Cullen's letters reporting his progress for her review. They were succinct and professional. What else would they be? Cassandra seemed to think that should be enough to assume all was well with the Commander. Evelyn disagreed. She needed to see him with her own eyes. Watch his face and his movements. Watch him breath. She had studied him so well, she would know if any of the old scars had healed over or if they were still causing him pain.

In a moment of self-doubt she wondered if she saw him looking better, would that be enough? Could she crawl back into her shell of unspoken affection and be happy just knowing he was well? Could she really impose this upon him now?

She leaned over the wall looking down at the courtyard. The smell of food and the sounds of music were both carried softly up to her from the tavern on the evening breeze. Food and music sounded like just the thing she needed to clear her head for while. She remembered she had promised Cole that she and Leliana would sing something for him. A quiet evening with friends would help to settle her nerves a bit. And at the very least it would get her off these walls willing Cullen to return.

xxxx

Cullen rode his horse harder than he intended. He walked alongside the poor animal and led it down the path to the Skyhold gates. It was dark and the warm glow of torches illuminating the grey stone was a welcome sight. As he made his way to the stables, he found that his heart was beating faster than it should be for someone who was simply returning home. And there was a strange tingle in his gut that he was certain should be reserved for someone much younger and much more naive than him. It hadn't been but a few weeks ago that he was all hard edges and brittle emotions and now he had a more settled feeling inside, along with a boyish anticipation. He wondered if she would see the difference in him; the difference he felt she was largely responsible for. Suddenly he was possessed of a need to tell her that. He wanted her to know.

He didn't bother with his bags, leaving them forgotten with the horse. He left the stables thinking to find Evelyn immediately, but he halted his steps at the foot of the stairs up to the main hall. It was late. What if she had retired already? Did he really think he was going to just knock on her bedroom door? And say what exactly? 'Thinking of you helps me to carry on'? Even in his head that sounded ridiculous, no matter if it was what he felt. He was suddenly overcome by doubt.

He had woven an entire fantasy in his head. He had spent too many days alone on the road with nothing but his own thoughts to occupy his time. She was the Inquisitor and he had turned her into an object of affection and desire wrapped in an intoxicating scent that helped him sleep at night. He was deluded. He should just head straight to his bed and hope he woke up back in his right mind in the morning. He needed to be able conduct business as usual with her.

On the way to his tower, however, his attention was caught by activity near the tavern. Not really wanting to retire to his own bed, perhaps fearing being alone with his addictions and not wanting to venture into the uncharted territory of finding Evelyn at this hour, he decided to he would get a drink.

As he approached he heard the soft lilt of voices singing. He recognized Leliana, he had heard her sing before. He wanted to be surprised when he saw who was joining her in song, but truth be told he wasn't. He entered the warmth of the tavern and stepped into the packed room. In the corner by the fire were Leliana and Evelyn. If course she would have a lovely voice. Innocent and hauntingly deep at the same time, with clarity and precision that bespoke years of childhood lessons but with a restrained and hidden passion under the surface. If he had to guess what her voice would sound like in song he could have imagined exactly this. And even as he listened he thought he could smell honey and clover.

The women sung an old Fereldon ballad. Strange for an Orlesian and a Marcher to chose this song. It was something his mother used to hum quietly and just a bit off key as she did work around the house when he was a child. Cullen stood just inside the door behind the thick crowd in attendance. Even if he didn't have the excuse of the performance, he couldn't help but stare at her. He thought he could be content living in this moment. A peaceful reprieve from the cold world outside. He found himself relaxing back against the wall and he couldn't stop a smile from tugging gently at the corners of his lips. His mind was lulled and his vision almost started to go hazy. He didn't need a drink after all, just the intoxicating presence of Evelyn.

Almost without really noticing, the song had stopped and he heard applause as if it was far away and not surrounding him. He saw Evelyn stand and walk forward, slowly and gently pushing her way through the crowd that had turned back to their drinks and started talking among themselves again. All of a sudden she was there. She stopped right in front of him and looked up with a wide smile.

"Welcome home, Commander. It's good to see you again."

Good to see him? She couldn't know how much more it meant for him to see her again. Seeing her was like taking a breath after nearly drowning. It was like stepping into the sunshine after groping about in the dark. But he said none of that. He seemed to not be able to say anything.

"Would you...walk with me, Commander? I thought we could talk...alone."

"Alone?" He heard himself question her as if someone else was saying it. He saw what seemed like her confidence slip away from her at his hesitant response, so he quickly retracted. "I mean...of course."

Her smile grew wider and everything in him settled again. He turned towards the door and pushed it open for her. They exited together. She started wandering and he followed. Both of them were silent for a long time. He thought perhaps he should be uncomfortable but he wasn't, and neither did she seem to be. He thought he should ask what urgent business she wanted to discuss with him that had him riding through both day and night to get back, but if he asked, he worried it would actually be something about business and not something...else.

They climbed the stairs to the tops of the battlements. The night was quite and they were alone. Evelyn's steps slowed as if she wanted to linger but couldn't seem to find a reason to. Cullen stopped. That she seemed to want to stop here was enough to give him reason to accomodate her without her having to ask. He leaned against the top of the outer wall of the keep and looked out at the dark forms of the mountains. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. This was the best he'd felt in as long as he could remember and it was because of her.

Cullen finally spoke. He needed to let her know. "I wanted to thank you..." He wanted to do so much more than just thank her. "When we last spoke..." This was coming out wrong. He tried again. "If there's anything..." He rubbed at the back of his neck and sighed. "This sounded much better in my head." He mumbled out towards the Frostbacks.

She came up beside him and leaned on the wall casually. "I trust you're feeling better."

"I...yes." He would swear there was more he had wanted to say, but she was standing too close for him to concentrate. He felt her warmth and he could smell her hair.

"I'm glad." She replied simply.

Cullen breathed a sigh of relief. She seemed to know he didn't want to dwell on old scars right now.

They both just stared out in front of them enjoying the companionable silence for a while. Cullen was acutely aware of each small movement Evelyn made beside him. She shifted her weight back and forth on each foot. Her fingers absently traced patterns in the stone. He looked down at her face and her brow was furrowed and she bit at her bottom lip.

He leaned forward, his eyes fixated on the slight pout of her mouth. He felt like a voyeur standing here just staring at her. It was going to become dangerous if he let his mind wander with her so close, just within arms reach. "There was something you wished to discuss..." He queried, trying to prompt her into speaking so as to distract him from just watching her.

She startled a little at his question and straightened, now facing him. "Cullen..." She spoke his name almost in a whisper, and then louder as she looked up at him, "I...I care for you..."

xxxx

She heard her faltering voice disappear into the air between them. She had been thinking not to say anything. It all seemed like such a bad idea now. She was about to say goodnight and excuse herself when he prodded her with his question and she just let 'what she wished to discuss' come stuttering out. Her admission just hung there for a moment. For once, Cullen's face was unreadable to her as he looked down at her, gold eyes dark in the light of the moons. She felt bare before him, exposed. She couldn't help but think it was how he must have felt when last they spoke as he laid his past bare to her.

Evelyn felt flushed and she was suddenly too hot. She should be saying something, or he should be saying something, one of them should definitely be saying something. Suddenly the silence was awkward where before it was peaceful. She needed to take a step back from him. He was too close. She could hear him breathing. This had become too intimate and his lack of response was so obvious in its illustration that she had made such a bad decision in saying something. She turned to back away, dropping her face to the ground and managing a quiet, "I...I'm sorry, I shouldn't have..."

Cullen grabbed her arm and pulled her back towards him. The action was abrupt and forceful. She looked back up at him. She would swear she saw half a dozen emotions blaze behind his eyes. Shock and fear, doubt and longing, the memory of scars and the hope for healing. He pulled her closer, just hovering above her, feeling hesitant or caged or both. She had opened the door for him and in that brief span of seconds she prayed that Dorian was correct and that Cullen would walk through it.

But there wasn't even time for the Maker to hear her plea because in the next moment Cullen enveloped her. A gloved hand on her cheek, a strong arm around her waist, a warm mouth on hers and the uneven skin of a scar tickling at her lips as he kissed her.


	6. Chapter 6

Maker, she tasted perfect.

He pressed against her more insistently. For the first time in his life, Cullen did not worry about the consequences of his actions. Perhaps he was weakened by the lyrium withdrawal, or weakened by her allure, or both. He didn't care.

The curves of her form felt perfect under his hands.

He pulled her in closer. This moment was every raw desire he had ever had, every secret hope he had never acknowledged, every primal urge he had buried deep within. He wondered how he had ever managed before this. He had been blindly stumbling through his life, which in retrospect seemed shockingly devoid of meaningful direction, when now there existed this clarity, this purpose...this...this...her...

There was no going back for him. He leaned forward into her arms which had come up around him in a hesitant embrace. He had yet to take a breath. He didn't feel like he needed one. He didn't need air, he didn't need lyrium, he just needed for this to never end. He hastily pulled off his gloves, the only thing he could think to do to gain more contact with her. The soft leather landed without a sound on the stone beneath their feet. He ran his bare hands into her hair nudging it free of it's ties. It spilled around his fingers like liquid.

The warmth of her tresses caressing him was perfect.

She hummed a soft little noise as he rubbed her scalp. He tilted her head so he could dip deeper into her and his actions drew out an unashamed moan.

The sound of it was perfect.

Eventually his lungs betrayed him and he was forced to part from her to draw in a breath. He separated from her only the barest necessary fraction, his hands still holding her close, his body still pinning her against the stone of the outer wall. He looked down at her face half lit by moonlight, half in shadow. Her eyes were closed, her swollen lips hung open, her chin still upturned towards him.

When she opened her eyes and met his, a sudden shock of fear shot through him. What was he doing? What had he done? All of the very sensible reasons this was a bad idea ran through his head. Too young, too beautiful, too noble, too important. And yet he couldn't let her go.

"I'm sorry..." He stuttered out, wanting to sound appropriately remorseful, but instead sounding far too pleased with himself, "that was..."

"Perfect." She finished, with a satisfied smile on her face.

xxxx

It could only have been more perfect if he hadn't stopped. She would have happily suffocated inside his kiss. She was amazed she even managed to speak that single word. She dared not move, dared not blink lest he pull away and leave her wanting.

She had seen glimpses of Cullen before. Not the leader of her armies. Cullen. And she had extrapolated, imagined and fabricated in her mind what the man would truly be like without the mantle of command and duty. But the reality of it took her breath away. He was still holding her tightly against him, and thank the Maker for it, because if he let go now, if Cullen disappeared and the Commander of the Inquisition returned, she feared she would shatter and fall to pieces, landing in the snow far below them.

But he didn't let go. He leaned in closer, his lips hovering just over hers and she felt them form a smile. Then he laughed. Cullen laughed. She had never heard that before. She had heard the Commander laugh on occasion. It was typically laced with sarcasm, irony or a darkness that left her feeling cold and aching for him. This was different. It wasn't scarred over bitterness, it was just laughter. He was changing. He was healing.

She relaxed, settling into his arms, wanting to enjoy every second of his embrace. She found the courage to speak, to tease even. "How long have you wanted to do that?" She said through her own smile.

"Longer than I should admit." He admitted. The smile left his face and he closed his eyes. His forehead came to rest against hers. "Is this really happening?" He whispered, almost too softly for her to hear over the wind. "I shouldn't want this. You shouldn't want this. You shouldn't want me."

"And yet I'm still here."

"So you are. It seems too much to ask." He spoke against her lips and all she wanted to do was push into them and silence him; silence his excessive thinking. A moment like this didn't need thoughtful contemplation. It needed action.

She slowly brought her hand up to cup the back of his neck. Initially he almost winced when she rested her fingers gently against the scar there, but he quickly relaxed against her touch. She took a deep breath. She released him and pulled away just a little, finding his hands with hers and bringing them up to her lips. She lightly kissed the lines that slashed across the knuckles on his right hand, then she turned his left hand over and kissed the cold metal of his gauntlet, beneath which lay the starburst scar.

He just looked down at her curiously through all of this. It wasn't exactly how she imagined finally being able to give attention to his scars but she hoped there would be a point in the future when they would exchange cold air and stone for a warm fire and a bed. She would do them proper justice then.

She slid one hand under his cloak, sneaking as far as she could beneath his pauldron to trace a circle under the scar on his shoulder while her other hand came to rest on his breastplate, over the old damage that had been done there. If he thought she was acting strangely little did she care, she had been waiting so long to be able to touch him in this way. He didn't seem to mind, however, simply letting her play out her little ritual of healing.

Finally she lifted her arms to wrap around him, encouraging him to pull her close again, which he did so quickly and so tightly she might have thought he was saving her from tumbling down the ramparts. She lifted her self up on her toes and brought their mouths within reach again, but she didn't kiss him. In fact, when he tried to taste her again, she pulled away.

"Evelyn..." He said, but still he didn't protest, just letting her have her way. Her name had never sounded so perfect and she had never felt so lucky to have a name as that moment hearing it come from him, deep and earnest and full of desire.

She bit her lower lip to hold back a smile as she tried to get control over the mad fluttering of her heart inside her chest. After another deep breath, she brought her lips up to ghost over the thin scar at the corner of his mouth. She moved slowly back and forth over it, learning it, and boldly bringing her tongue against it. Cullen made a low and contented noise in his throat and tightened his arms around her.

And then he had had enough, and he crushed against her in another kiss. If the wind whipped harder or the night grew colder, if the people around them or the world beneath them continued to move forward, they noticed none of it, content to steal this moment for themselves in the dark, under the moons, with hands and lips and breath and scars and all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided to fade to black here after the first kiss. Something about leaving Evelyn and Cullen kissing in the dark makes me smile. I thought about taking this story all the way to their 'first time' together, but I think I'm just going to make that a separate fic. Can't wait to write it! Thanks so much for reading!


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